


hold on forever

by brandnewfashion



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Fluff, Friendship, M/M, Multimedia, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-17
Updated: 2016-04-17
Packaged: 2018-06-02 19:23:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6579217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brandnewfashion/pseuds/brandnewfashion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You’re taking this a lot better than I thought you would—Wait, are you crying?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	hold on forever

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ladypei](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladypei/gifts).



> Title taken from [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xCLN6JuXfpE).

Shitty shows up on his doorstep at 3:37 with two pizzas and a six-pack of some New England IPA that his roommate’s friend’s girlfriend’s brother had recommended to him when they were all bored as hell at some regatta last week.

“I should’ve gotten a pie or something,” Shitty says regretfully. “None of us ever had to even think about this shit with Bitty around.”

“Yeah,” Jack says, and pointedly does not look at his fridge; he has no idea how to explain why he has half of a maple sugar crusted apple pie right now.  “Wanna go out on the balcony?”

Five hours, two pizzas, a six-pack and a trip to the liquor store around the corner later, Jack and Shitty are leaning against the railing overlooking downtown Providence. 

“…and I _tried_ going to a game, but these uptight Cambridge motherfuckers that I was seated with wouldn’t shut the fuck up about their fucking country clubs and their prize-winning horses.  At a hockey game, Jack!  A _hockey_ game!  I’m actually _trying_ to root for these Ivy-league jerks and it’s literally impossible.  I’m pretty sure the universe just doesn’t want it to happen—”  

Jack lets Shitty’s rambling wash over him.  Jack’s never been very talkative, but he’s always surrounded himself with louder, more outspoken people.  Even if Jack was never directly a part of the conversation, the words always helped drown out the thoughts in Jack’s head, and that was always a comfort.

It takes a while for Jack to register that Shitty has actually stopped talking and is now scrutinizing him.

“Why are you staring at me?” Jack asks.  His hand comes up to his face, brushing invisible crumbs away from his mouth. “Is there something on my face?”

“Dude, you haven’t stopped smiling all fucking _night_ ,” Shitty says, a huge grin on his own face.

“Oh.”  It isn’t the first time he’s been told that same exact thing.  His parents had pointed it out when he had visited home over the summer, and George and his teammates had mentioned it in passing lately too.

“I never thought I’d live to see the day—Canada’s prodigal son is _smiling_!  Alert the presses!” Shitty yells, getting the attention of several pedestrians eight stories below. 

Jack punches his arm. “You’re such an ass.” 

“Easy, tiger,” Shitty says with a wince. “You may still be a big NHL star now but I haven’t had as much time to hit the gym what with being in _law school_ and all.”

“How long are you gonna use that excuse?” Jack chirps.

Shitty ponders for a moment before replying: “I’ll stop using it when you stop putting us normal humans to shame.  You’re built like a Greek god, brah.  It really isn’t fair.”

“Have you tried eating more protein?”

Shitty glares at him. “Y’know, sometimes I can’t tell if you’re actually being serious or if you’re just fucking with me.”

Jack shrugs. “Did it ever occur to you that it could be both?” he says cheekily, and Shitty throws his head back and laughs.

“Jack Zimmermann, I’ve missed you so much I could kiss you.”

“Please don’t.”

“Just once?”

“Nope.”

“Why?  Are you spoken for or something?” Shitty asks.  He’s joking, of course, because there’s absolutely _no way_ that he has any clue about what had transpired over the last six months.  It’s an out—an easy out—and Jack briefly considers taking it, but he had invited Shitty over for a _reason_ , damnit, and now is as good as time as any to bring it up.

“I am, actually,” Jack says matter-of-factly.

The night air, which had been filled with Shitty’s raucous laughter just seconds ago, is suddenly overwhelmingly silent.  Jack has a fleeting thought that he’s made a mistake—that maybe it _isn’t_ the right time—but he can’t take it back now.

“You’re what?” Shitty asks.

“I’m seeing someone,” Jack says again. “It’s serious.”  The more he talks about it, the easier he finds the words rolling off of his tongue.    

“You’re…” Shitty’s voice cracks slightly. “Goddamn, Jack.  _Really_?”  

Jack nods and ducks his head when he feels a blush creep up on his cheeks.

“Holy shit.  Holy _fucking_ shit, Zimmermann.  I… I think I need to sit down for a second because _holy shit_.”  Shitty backs up into a chair and practically collapses onto it.  He sits forward, elbows on his knees and brow furrowed in concentration.

Jack awkwardly shuffles his feet.  “Should I come back, or…?”

“Just give me a minute,” Shitty says.  He takes a deep breath and straightens his posture before looking at Jack again. “Since when?”

“Graduation.”

Shitty gapes. “You’ve been dating someone for over _six months_ and didn’t tell me?”

“Sorry, Shits.  I—”

“Oh, no!” Shitty puts his hands up. “No, no, no.  I’m not _mad_ , brah.  I totally understand the need for privacy.  I’m just surprised that you’ve managed to hide something this big from me—from the _team_.”

“Ah, well, there is one person on the team who knows.”

“Wait, seriously?  Who is it?  It can’t be Lardo because she would’ve told me.  It can’t be Rans or Holster because they would’ve told _everyone_ —Oh, shit.  Is it Bitty?  Does Bitty know?”

“It’s Bitty,” Jack confirms. 

“How exactly did Bitty find out?  I mean, I feel like a secret relationship isn’t really normal talk over text or Skype, is it?  And you see the guys as often as I do—which is not as often as I’d like, unfortunately—so what?  Does Bitty know them? A friend of his?  Did you all take that food class together or something?”

“It’s Bitty,” Jack says again.  He doesn’t try to elaborate, suddenly overcome with nerves, and he hopes that Shitty will finally _get it_ so that Jack doesn’t have to, because how do you even tell your best friend that you’ve been secretly dating someone?  And that just two years ago, you could barely tolerate said someone’s cheerful demeanor because you let your own insecurities get the best of you?

It doesn’t take that long for Shitty to stop looking confused and looking more… well, ‘surprised’ to say the least.  (Or “like he’s been pulled through a knothole backwards,” as Bitty’s delightfully wacky Aunt Eleanor would say.) 

The ensuing high-pitched screech that escapes Shitty’s mouth is equal parts alarming and hilarious, and before Jack knows it, Shitty launches himself across the table and has Jack in a headlock.

“Jack Laurent Zimmermann, you _beaut_.  I can’t believe—This is—Oh, my fucking _God_!” Shitty continues to ramble, which gives Jack the perfect opportunity to free himself from Shitty’s hold without any further roughhousing.

“You’re taking this a lot better than I thought you would—Wait, are you crying?” Jack asks.

“Fuck you, man.  I just found out two of my best bros are a _thing_ and have _been a thing_ for _half a year_ ,” Shitty says, furiously wiping the tears from his eyes. “You can’t just spring that on me.  Jesus Christ, no wonder you were so fucking chipper all summer.  I mean, this is just… incredible.”

“Yeah?” Jack says, anticipative.

“ _Hell_ yeah!” Shitty says enthusiastically, but then immediately sobers. “Dear God, that explains so much.”

Jack looks at him quizzically. “What do you mean?”

“Why you never seemed to be sexually attracted to anyone but hockey before,” Shitty says point-blank.  

“Gee, thanks, Shits.”

“No, I’m serious!” Shitty defends. “But you know what, the finer details of your sexual orientation can be saved for another equally important conversation.  Later.  _Tonight_ , we are going to celebrate the relationship between, quite possibly, the greatest, kindest, most courageous and most beautiful hockey-playing man—with a killer booty, may I add—to walk the earth,” he says, raising his beer, “and you.”

Jack chuckles and clinks their bottles together. “Can’t argue with any of that.”  He takes a swig of his beer and looks back out at the twinkling lights of the Providence skyline.  It’s funny: he’s lived in the city for less than half a year, but it already feels like home.

He remembers everyone asking him why he had chosen the Falconers back in April when there were other more established teams gunning for him; he remembers shrugging his shoulders and giving them very short, polite answers; but he also remembers the hours he spent on Google Maps calculating the travel times to Samwell and Harvard (sure, Boston was closer, but Ransom was right about the Bruins not being for him). 

“You’re still looking at me funny,” Jack says without tearing his gaze away from the city.  He’s long-ago grown accustom to the feeling of being watched.

“I’m just trying to get used to this,” Shitty says. “I’ve known you almost five years and I’ve _never_ seen you like this.”

“I’ve never felt like this,” Jack confesses. “I didn’t know that anyone _could_ feel this happy.”  He feels raw admitting it.  Exposed.  He’s never voiced that particular fact to anyone—not to Bitty, not to himself—but finally saying it makes him feel infinitely lighter.   

“I’m glad.  ‘Happy’ looks really good on you.”  Shitty abruptly puts his beer down, and suddenly sobers up, looking at Jack with concern.  “How are you two handling it?  Do your parents know?” 

“I told my parents over the summer, and Bitty’s planning on telling his when he goes back to Madison for winter break,” Jack says. “It hasn’t been easy—not actually _being_ with him, obviously, because I don’t even feel like I have to _try_ —but… well, it’s only going to get harder now.”

Shitty waits for Jack to continue.  On a normal day, Shitty could talk his ear off, but he's always had a knack for listening too. 

“I… I’ve been thinking a lot lately and… Is any of this really fair to him?  Hiding our relationship, like he’s my dirty little secret or something?  The reason he even went to Samwell in the first place was because he could finally be himself, and now he can’t even do _that_ —”

“Jack,” Shitty interjects. “I’m sure Bitty knew exactly what he was signing up for.”

“Still doesn’t make me feel any better,” Jack grumbles. 

Shitty smiles apologetically. “I doubt I could ever tell you anything that would make you stop worrying, there is no doubt in my mind that Bitty wouldn’t be in this if his heart wasn’t in it.  You love him?”

“Yes,” Jack says without hesitation.  He’s always heard stories about people being in love—about just _knowing_.  He remembers being seven and asking his mother and father what being in love is like, and they had only looked at each other with the fondest smiles on their faces and said: _It’s the best feeling in the world._

He hadn’t understood it then, but he does now. 

Up until a few months ago, he hadn’t known the feeling.  He remembers how great he had felt when he had beat out two NHL rookies when he was twelve, remembers how proud his dad had been whenever he played a game (win or lose), or how happy his mother had been when he had decided to go to Samwell.  Moreover, he still relishes the feeling whenever his friends clap him on the back and call him ridiculous nicknames and ask him for his autograph because they’re assholes, but they’re assholes who care about Jack, so it’s okay.

But it wasn’t until graduation, when Jack had realized how important Bitty was to him, that he had begun to understand what his parents had told him all of those years ago.  It wasn’t until Jack had kissed Bitty and Bitty had kissed him _back_ that Jack finally understood what it was like to experience the best thing to ever happen to you. 

“He loves you?”

Jack nods, even if that particular truth still baffles him.  Bitty makes sure to tell him every single day, but Jack never tires of hearing it.

“Then you’ll be fine,” Shitty assures him.  “Look, no ‘fense, but you and Bits have absolutely zero chill about basically everything.  You guys are gonna deal with a fuck-ton of heteronormative bullshit, but you’ll probably do whatever is in your power to stay together just to spite them.” 

Jack laughs, but he doesn’t know if it’s the idea itself that he finds amusing, or the sheer accuracy.

Shitty claps him on the shoulder. “Those idiots will also have to answer to me. I’ve got your back, man.  Both of you.”

“I know,” Jack says.  He’s never doubted that for a second.   

Shitty appraises him. “You look like you wanna say something else.”

“I want to thank you.  For everything.”  It’s pathetic, he knows, but finding the words to express his gratitude for having Shitty in his life—for Shitty latching onto him when they were frogs and declaring himself Jack’s best friend and always _being there for him_ —is impossible. 

“I wanna thank you, too.”

“What?” Jack says disbelievingly. “What do you have to thank me for?”

“Trusting me with this,” Shitty says, squeezing Jack’s shoulder again before letting his arm drop to his side.

Jack feels like he’s just been punched in the gut, because it’s never been a question of whether or not he could trust Shitty.  It only makes logical sense that Jack would want to tell one of the most important people in his life about this _new_ important person.  He doesn’t know where he’d be right now without Shitty.  For one, his time at Samwell certainly wouldn’t have been as enjoyable.  Hockey was always something to do—something to _excel_ at—but the Samwell guys made it _fun_.  Without Shitty and the others, he wouldn’t have made any friends; wouldn’t have been able to really figure his shit out; wouldn’t have let himself love _Bitty_ —

The mere _thought_ of that makes Jack sick. 

“I…” Jack starts, but Shitty shakes his head.

“Don’t do it, man.  I’ve already cried one too many times tonight.”  Shitty’s tone is light, but the smile on his face is forced, and that’s when Jack realizes that Shitty _understands_ —that Shitty has understood him better than almost anyone for as long as they've known each other.  

“Okay.”

Jack expects them to just continue drinking in comfortable silence, so he’s surprised when Shitty elbows him in the side a minute later. “So…”

Jack looks at him expectantly. “So?”

Shitty sighs exasperatedly. “Deets, brah.  Give me the _deets_!”

Jack knows he should’ve expected it, but he still blushes when his mind starts to replay the events of that warm, sunny afternoon in May.  “Fine, but I’m gonna need another drink first,” Jack announces as he makes his way back into the apartment.  Shitty’s going to be _relentless_ with his chirping, so it’s only fair that he gets another beer or two in his system first.

“I’ll be waaaiting!” Shitty sing-songs from the balcony.

Jack starts heading for the kitchen, but makes a detour for his bedroom instead.  Once the door is closed, he takes out his phone and pulls up Bitty’s contact.

 _“Hi, Honey,”_ Bitty answers after only the second ring.  The endearment still makes Jack’s heart flutter.

“I love you,” Jack says by way of greeting.

_“…are you okay?”_

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Jack says with a laugh.  “I’m more than fine.  I just… I really wanted to tell you that.” 

_“Oh, sweetheart.  You really know how to spoil a guy, don’t you?”_

“You deserve to be spoiled.” 

 _“Jack Zimmermann, now I_ know _you’re just tryin’ to make me blush.”_

“I wish I could see it.  You’re cute when you blush,” Jack says. “I told Shitty about us.”

_“When?”_

“Just now.”

_“So how’d he take it?”_

“He cried,” Jack informs and Bitty laughs.

 _“Oh, Lord.  I_ told _you.  Looks like I won the bet, huh?”_

“Yeah, yeah.  I know.  What do I owe you again?”

 _“A hundred kisses and morning cuddles,”_ Bitty says brightly.

“Doesn’t sound like much of a punishment,” Jack retorts.

_“You also have to tell the rest of the team.”_

“Oh, right.”  Jack had forgotten that little detail.  Telling Shitty was one thing, but Ransom and Holster are the types to make a big deal out of everything. “You’ll be there, right?”

_“Do you want me to be?”_

“I’ll always want you with me, Bits,” Jack says earnestly.  Bitty remains silent on the other end, and after a while, Jack thinks the call may have disconnected, but then he hears Bitty sniffle.

_“Oh, Jack,”_ Bitty says, sounding breathless.  

“I love you, Bits.”

_“I know. I love you, too.  Now, go back to Shitty and leave me in peace so I can make myself look decent again.  Lord, I’m a mess!”_

Jack laughs again. “Okay.”

_“…Jack?”_

“Yeah?”

_“I love you.”_

Jack smiles. “I love you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [tumblr](http://brandnewfashion.tumblr.com)!


End file.
